


Anyway, Here's Blackwall

by moxanna



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, First Time, Hand Jobs, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-07
Updated: 2015-12-07
Packaged: 2018-05-05 10:25:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5371862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moxanna/pseuds/moxanna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blackwall was aware of the Inquisitor’s interest. She hadn’t done much to hide it, to be honest. Of course, he would never let himself be with her, not after what he’d done. Who he was. To lie to his leader was one thing. To lie to his lover was something else entirely. And besides that, what he had said on the battlements had been true. She didn’t need the distraction. Better to leave well enough alone.</p><p>But Maker, she wasn’t going to make it easy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anyway, Here's Blackwall

Blackwall was aware of the Inquisitor’s interest. She hadn’t done much to hide it, to be quite honest. Of course, he would never let himself be with her, not after what he’d done. Who he was. To lie to his leader was one thing. To lie to his lover was something else entirely. And besides that, what he had said on the battlements had been true. She didn’t need the distraction. Better to leave well enough alone.

But Maker, she wasn’t going to make it easy. 

She took every opportunity to flirt with him, trying to seduce him into rethinking his nobler intentions. Always standing a little too close for professional conversation. Catching his eye as she threw water on herself after a match in the sparring circle.

And then there were the things she couldn’t have possibly done on purpose. The grace with which she beheaded red templars. The hard edge in her voice when she barked commands that shook nations. The sound of her heavy breathing after a triumphant battle. The pure sensuality of her strained the last filaments of his rapidly fraying self control. He could only pray that she would get bored of him before he finally snapped.

But of course, he should have known better. The Inquisitor was not one to give up on her quarry once she had caught its scent. She pursued him with the same single minded determination that had driven her to the mantle of Inquisitor in the first place. He had been foolish to think he could beat such a force in a battle of wills.

His spectacular defeat took place on a particularly dull evening. Master Dennent had tended the mounts and retired to his office. The merchants had closed up their shops for the day. Blackwall was left to his favorite time of day in Skyhold, when it was blissfully quiet save for the gentle mountain wind.

Until, that is, the Inquisitor blew open the stable doors like a hurricane, sweeping through like she owned the place (which, he supposed, she did). She brushed his carving tools to the side and hopped on his workbench. Her legs were parted just a little wider than was proper, her back arched so that her breasts pushed against the tight fabric of her tunic. And so she sat while she asked him about his thoughts on the Inquisition, the Wardens, and a number of equally trivial topics she used as a frail excuse to flirt with him. He answered in a forced casual tone, pointedly avoiding her inviting posture, until he here a small thud. He turned to that see one of the Warden artifacts she had found for him had been knocked off his workbench. He frowned and cleared his throat.

“Watch it,” he growled.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said with a wicked grin and slid lithely off the bench. She slowly bent at the waist, one hand caressing her thigh and resting on her knee to support herself. There she stood, a beat longer than necessary under the pretense of trying to find the artifact. He stood with his hands clenched in fists at his side, fighting every primal urge pumping in his blood. Maker, how he wanted to go over there and give her what she was asking for. He wanted to bend her over the workbench and show her how he was a dangerous man to taunt. He dug his nails painfully into his palms to try and quell the erection growing in his trousers.

She eventually stood up with the same slow, sensuous movement. She faced him and held out the artifact in her hand to him, forcing him to walk over to take it from her. When he reached an appropriate distance, he extended his hand. Instead of handing it over, she stepped closer to him. She took his hands in her own and pressed the artifact in them. She was only inches from him, back still arched so that her breasts were very nearly pressed against him. The smell of her was overpowering his senses, making it hard to remember why exactly grabbing her face and crashing his mouth into hers was such a bad idea.

“There you are,” she said lightly.

“Yes, yes thank you,” he managed to get out. “Now, if you’re finished with me, my lady, I think I’m going to make an early night of it.” If he didn’t take care of the tightness in his breeches very soon, he was going to go mad.

“Oh I am far from finished with you, Blackwall,” she purred. “But I shall take my leave if you wish.” She all but strutted towards the door, and he couldn’t help but watch the way her hips moved as she left.

“Good night,” she called over her shoulder.

As soon as the door slammed shut, Blackwall was working the laces of his breeches. He didn’t even bother to climb to the loft; the closed stable doors would have to do for privacy. He practically threw himself onto a chair and released himself from his smalls. He groaned when his hard cock finally made contact with skin. He pulled the foreskin over the head and began the familiar strokes to relieve his frustration. The Inquisitor had made this act a part of his daily routine. He worked himself quickly, desperate to rid himself of his temptation as soon as possible.

He let himself picture the Inquisitor, having her the only way he could- in his fantasies. He imagined her sitting naked on his bench as she had been only minutes before. Her legs wrapped around him as he fucked her the way she had been begging him for weeks. He groaned, louder, as he thought of her pushed against him, letting him do with her what he pleased. He could feel himself growing tense as his climax approached when he heard the stable doors open. The Inquisitor appeared in the door frame, looking worried.

“Blackwall, are you alright? I heard-” she stopped short at the sight of him.

And how he must look. Still fully dressed, cock in hand just moments after she had left him. And apparently making so much noise that she had thought him injured. Shame deflated him faster than a cold bath.

She arched an eyebrow at him, and he could tell she was barely holding back a smirk. _Maker, if you have any mercy, grant me a swift death_. He sat frozen, before he regained the use of his senses and started to put himself back together.

“Don’t stop on my account.”

He looked up at her to apologize, to beg her to forget this ever happened, but the look in her eyes stopped him before he could find the words. She was looking to where his hand was still gripping his cock, trying to put himself back in his breeches as quickly as possible. The only way he could think to describe the way she was looking at him was _hungry_. Her eyes were almost black with naked lust, and half of her bottom lip had disappeared between her teeth. He stammered for a few seconds, pinned beneath that predatory gaze until she finally snapped out of it. She met his eyes with a silent question. Blackwall knew instantly that she would leave and never bring this up again if he indicated. He felt the blood drain from his stomach and start flowing back to where he had himself in hand. He stared straight at the Inquisitor and started pumping his fist again.

The Inquisitor let out a slow breath and quickly made her way to where he was seated. She knelt on one knee at his side so that her lips were at his ear.

“I could give you a hand with that, if you like,” she whispered. He growled and let his head fall back. A softer, smaller hand gently pushed his own out of the way. She rolled her fist over him, much slower than he had earlier. She rubbed his length with his precum and added a twisting movement at the tip. There was a finesse in her movements that was absent from his own routine. Where he was only concerned with scratching an itch, she wanted to savor every moment.

Soon, his whole world condensed into the sensation of his cock hot in her hand until he became dimly aware of her heavy breathing in his ear. He turned his head to look at her through half lidded eyes. She was watching his face with the same hungry gaze. He leaned in to kiss her, but she pulled back, shifting around him until she was settled between his legs.

She stilled her hand at the base and licked a slow stripe up the length of his cock. Blackwall let out a moan that was more of a gasp and let his head fall back again. She took his tip in her mouth, her tongue swirling over the head. Then, without warning, she took the entire length of him in her mouth in one fast swallow.

“Maker,” he whispered hoarsely. He looked down at her. She was the very picture of decadence. Lips red and swollen and stretched wide around his cock. Her half open eyes still fixed greedily on his face, closing slightly when the head of his cock met the back of her throat. It was a sight he would not soon forget.

His hands grabbed uselessly on his own thighs as she continued to swallow around him. She took them and placed them on her head. He wound his finger in her hair. He pushed down on her head, urging her to take more of him. She moaned around him as she obliged, and the vibration of her throat nearly sending him over the edge.

“Close, I’m-,” he tried to warn her. He harshly grabbed at the back of her head and held it in place. He thrust up off his chair, roughly fucking her mouth. She choked out another moan, strangled and needy. His orgasm hit hard, wave after wave of finally resolved frustration pumping into her eager mouth.

When Blackwall came down, he found himself doubled over the Inquisitor, one hand tangled in her hair, the other gripping his own forehead. Panting, he sat back in the chair. The Inquisitor gently pulled off his softening cock and rocked back on her heels. She licked her lips and looked up at him. Her eyes still held the same dark lust, only now they were tinged with a hint of uncertainty. He ought to say something reassuring, that he had wanted this as badly as she had, that this wasn’t just about sex, how he’d dreamed- Maker how he had dreamed- that he could be something more to her than a useful sword arm.

“Maker’s balls,” was what he said instead. The Inquisitor chuckled and used his knees to heave herself onto her feet.

“I suppose I should- I mean, I’ll let you get to bed,” she said awkwardly. His gut wrenched. He knew that he should let her leave. A good man would sacrifice his own happiness to spare her the eventual heartache he would inflict upon her. He grabbed her wrist. He had never been a good man.

“Stay,” he breathed. He tried to let her see in his face all the ways he meant the simple word. She smiled, and for a moment, he let himself believe that it would all be worth it in the end.

“What kind of gentleman would I be if I didn’t pay a lady back in kind, after all,” he said mischievously, pulling her into his lap.


End file.
